


The Offering

by chains_archivist



Series: Offering by The Emu [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Boys in Chains, Humor, M/M, No Spoilers, PWP, carries a health warning for Oiled-Up!Qui-Gon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 17:14:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3455306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chains_archivist/pseuds/chains_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>by the Emu<br/>Flaming torches. Religious zealots. Human sacrifice. Oil. Obi-Wan, Faithful Padawan, coming to his Master's rescue. Force help us all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Offering

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Dusk, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Boys in Chains](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Boys_in_Chains), which opened in 2000 as a multifandom archive for both fiction and art, but then sadly went offline in 2005. To bring the archive back, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2014. Open Doors [posted an announcement](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/1832) and e-mailed all creators about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please [contact the Open Doors committee](http://transformativeworks.org/contact/open%20doors).  
> \--  
> Rating: R for sex and carries a health warning for Oiled-Up!Qui-Gon.  
> Spoilers: No spoilers.  
> /The Emu bows and scrapes in Mac's direction for the world's fastest beta./ Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan are the property of Lucasfilm. I own nothing. If anyone notices feathers stuck in the oil on Qui-Gon... I know nothing about them. Oh, man. Qui-Gon is never gonna speak to me again. A warning to would-be bunny-sellers: sometimes the distributor gets bit. I was almost safe... almost, then I had to go tease DBKate, and... damn. This is what happens when you're too smug for your own good.

The High Priest paced the stage before his audience, preaching in rhythmic tones against the treaty being negotiated the visiting Jedi, and the disgrace that it would bring to the gods. The audience murmured at the Priest's proclamations of doom, their voices winding together in mournful harmonies. 

The worshippers numbered in their hundreds, crushed into the tiered stands, all of them faceless, robed in pale hues that reflected the torchlight back onto the small stage. Their annonymity blended them together into an eerie mass, lacking form and mind, so a watcher could almost imagine that they might simply dissolve and float up into the still night with the smoke from the torches and the scent of the burning oils. 

In the furthest rafters of the audience shelter, Obi-Wan crouched in readiness, unaffected by the atmosphere. He was watching the proceedings with a wary eye, but mostly watching the man strapped to the altar at the centre of the stage. 

The Jedi had been forced to tolerate the local customs of ritual sacrifice, even when the slaughter of animals was occasionally replaced by the slaying of people. The locals had practiced their faith for millennia; Republic interference might have threatened trade deals with Coruscant, and so Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had kept their distance. Until now. 

Now, Qui-Gon's entirely-naked and freshly-oiled body was laid out on a smooth black slab, collecting the firelight and shining as though he were a flame all of his own. The ripple of muscles as he struggled in the leather restraints lent a flickering authenticity to the image, and his hair was loose, with a sheen that was slmost ethereal. 

And deeper, there was a spark of anger, banked by Jedi control but undeniable, demanding freedom. 

All up, the situation was, in Obi-Wan's opinion, very close to perfect. Probably as close to perfect as he would ever see. If only the High Priest would take his worshippers and leave... 

...then that would still leave the two cauldrons of burning oil that were suspended above Qui-Gon's head, awaiting the signal to tip their contents onto the body below. All up, not so perfect. 

Obi-Wan palmed his lightsaber and began to creep along his rafter towards the front of the shelter. He would negotiate first, as his Master had taught him, but he could not negotiate from here. He paid closer attention to the High Priest's voice, noting that it had slipped into the untranslatable language of Church ceremony, and he began to move faster. 

A somersault brought him down between the High Priest and his Master, lightsaber blazing in threat. "You will free my Master!" 

"We will not." The High Priest met his gaze, ignoring the saber and the muttering of the crowd. "The gods demand that we sacrifice a beautiful virgin this morn; we shall not disappoint them." 

"I don't see what that has to do with us." 

"Padawan-" 

"You have kidnapped, tied up, and oiled a Jedi Master. Do you have any *idea* of the uproar this will raise in the Senate?" 

"Our gods demand that a virgin be made gift to their pleasure. They demand Qui-Gon Jinn." 

Obi-Wan choked out a laugh. "You think my Master is a virgin? That's absurd." 

"Padawan-" 

"For such a powerful sacrifice, we will be spared further sacrifices until the new year." 

"Because he is a Jedi?" 

"Because he is the oldest virgin I have seen in all my years." 

"*Padawan*!" 

Obi-Wan finally looked back to acknowledge the man spread out behind him. "Master, don't worry; I'll handle this." He turned back to the High Priest, and waved his hand towards the altar. "Look at this man! Does he look like a man who might live so long without finding willing partners?" 

"I do not know how your people judge the worthiness of sexual partners, Jedi; I only know what the gods tell my Channelers. And the gods tell my Channelers that *that* man is a virgin. As such, in keeping with the laws you both accepted when you put your first feet on this planet, you will submit to the rulings of the High Church. I am well aware of Republic law, and it does not prohibit the practice of religion or the enforcement of planetary law on visitors. Our gods do not bow before your Senate." 

"None of that matters, because *my* Master is not-" 

There was a thud as Obi-Wan's body connected with the stone wall beside the stage, barely missing a blazing torch. 

"Padawan." 

There were a few moments of near-silence, filled with the crackle of flames and the drip of oil, before Obi-Wan found breath to speak. "Yes, Master?" 

"The High Priest is well-within the laws of both the Senate and the-" 

"But Master!" 

"Padawan..." It was almost a growl, and Obi-Wan fell silent again. "Have you seen the sky?" 

Obi-Wan looked up; it was slightly less than black, even with the torches around to brighten the temple. Grey dawn was approaching. 

Qui-Gon continued. "We have half an hour, at most." He twisted his head, wincing at the pull of his restraints. "High Priest. I humbly beg that I be allowed to spend these minutes alone with my student. You have my word as a Jedi that the restraints will not be released." 

The High Priest glared at Obi-Wan, and then turned a more respectful gaze on Qui-Gon. "You honour us with your respect for our ways. It is a great privilege to be offered to the gods." 

"Master!" 

The High Priest sent another glare Obi-Wan's way. "I am not so sure I trust him." 

"He is my student; he shall do as I say." 

"But Master!" 

"Obi-Wan, get over here." Qui-Gon tugged his restraints in frustration until Obi-Wan leaned in to hear his furious whisper. "Obi-Wan, the sky is lightening, and if there is one thing that could possibly be worse than being sticky and naked and strapped spread-eagled to this cold rock in front of an audience of hundreds while you two bicker loudly over my purity it would have to be to die this way. And though right now I am not entirely averse to the idea of this altar breaking open so I can disappear inside it never to be seen again, I would rather live with the humiliation than have it end in a flood of burning oil." He paused in his rant to drag air into his lungs, somehow managing to do it without losing the furious spark in his eyes.. "So shut up, and let me fix this." 

Obi-Wan shut his mouth, and then after a moment he opened it again to assure the High Priest that he would not break his Master's word. 

Satisfied, the High Priest turned to face the crowd, robes swinging regally. "Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn concedes his life to our gods. We shall grant his final wish of time with his student." 

As the High Priest herded the hundreds of worshippers outside, Obi-Wan just stared at the supine form of his Master. Finally, the last door clicked shut, and Obi-Wan wet his lips. "He's right, isn't he?" 

"Obi-W-" 

"Isn't he?" 

"I don't-" 

"Isn't he?" 

"Yes!" 

Obi-Wan's ears burned red. "But... *how*?" 

"I just never did. I have never carried any shame for it."Qui-Gon's jaw clamped shut. "Until now." 

Obi-Wan simply stared at him. 

"Obi-Wan! *Dawn* is *approaching*. Help. Me." 

Confusion. "You gave your word..." 

The links rattled and there was a crack that sounded suspiciously like the altar straining, as Qui-Gon surged for his apprentice. "I told him the restraints would not be released. I didn't promise him that there would still be a virgin in them when he returned." 

Moments passed, and then it clicked. "*Oh!* ... oh." Obi-Wan looked over his shoulder, searching the room, and then jerked his head back. "You mean me?" 

"Well I'm hardly going to ask the High Priest to do it, am I?" 

Obi-Wan raked his gaze nervously over the body in front of him and then realised what he was doing and jerked his attention back to Qui-Gon's face. "Are you sure? No - stupid question." 

He looked up at the cauldrons of burning oil and cringed. And then he placed his lightsaber on the altar by Qui-Gon's head and began to undo his belt. He bent to lay it on the ground, and then added the sash. Caught the look in Qui-Gon's eye and pulled everything else off at once. 

He stood, naked, and not the slightest bit aroused, biting his lip as he met Qui-Gon's gaze. "We need something... lubricant." His ears burned brighter, and the flushed settled down his neck. 

"I'm covered in oil." 

"No, we need more..." 

"I'm covered. Everywhere." 

"Oh." Obi-Wan shuffled forward, and cautiously touched the glistening thigh. Crossing from fantasy into reality wasn't as easy as he would have expected. 

Qui-Gon spoke gently for the first time all morning, sounding a little hurt. "Is it so difficult, Obi-Wan?" 

"I - no! Force, no! I told the High Priest, there's no reason why... I mean... you're very attractive, Master." 

"But you're not..." Qui-Gon darted a quick look at Obi-Wan's soft penis, "...interested." 

"He's just... shocked. I mean surprised. He just - I just - need time to catch up." 

"We don't have much time." 

"Master, I'm twenty years old. I don't need much time." 

Qui-Gon closed his eyes, and took a long, cleansing breath. "Obi-Wan... Look at me. If this can't stir you, I don't know what more I can offer." 

Obi-Wan walked slowly to the foot of the slab and took another look at the man spread before him. His legs were pulled wide, knees pushed outwards for extra vulnerability, hips rocked forward by the position. He really was oiled... everywhere. Crimson firelight flickered in the sheen of his belly and chest, and despite the cool night, sweat dampened his brow, touching his hair. Afterwards, if the locals weren't too angry, Obi-Wan would have to ask for some of whatever it was they'd washed Qui-Gon's hair in. 

And oh, yes, Obi-Wan thought, as his gaze travelled southward again, Qui-Gon was entirely ready for this. 

Obi-Wan looked down at his own hardening penis. "I think what you're offering will be just fine, Master." He started to climb up on the altar, and then reconsidered, and peered over the side. "I'm going to have to loosen these restraints." He wandered around to adjust the straps, giving Qui-Gon room to manouvre. "It's not the ideal position, but it will have to do. Can you draw your knees up?" 

Qui-Gon shifted his feet until his heels were flush against his buttocks, and Obi-Wan gave a nod of approval. He climbed onto the altar again, kneeling between the open knees and determinedly placed his hands on his Master's belly, running them over the slippery flesh of his torso. 

Qui-Gon sucked in a breath, head tipping back at the touch. Obi-Wan could have lingered here, just sliding his hands everywhere, but there wasn't time. He pulled back, and slid a finger over Qui-Gon's anus, just testing, watching the involuntary clench. "Shhh." He began to circle, not pushing for entrance, simply waiting. "I'm not going to hurt you." Just the tip of a finger, and the bite of resistance, so Obi-Wan waited, his other hand soothing over Qui-Gon's thigh. The wrist restraints creaked. Obi-Wan leaned forward, touching his tongue to the shining cock, tasting the strange, sweet taste of oil. A longer lick, and Qui-Gon began to relax, allowing the finger to press inside the slicked passage. 

Qui-Gon took in a shaking breath. "Enough, Padawan. The sky is colouring." 

Obi-Wan continued to stroke, picking up his pace only slightly. "But this is your first time and I want to make it-" 

"This is my skin. And that is a vat of near-boiling oil. And above the vat is a distinctly morning sky. I can deal with the consequences later." 

Obi-Wan swallowed and pulled out, and then pushed too fingers inside, wincing at Qui-Gon's pained grunt. He channeled healing Force to join Qui-Gon's own rather unsteady effort, relaxing only when he felt the tension ease around his fingers. 

He twisted his hand, smiling slightly at Qui-Gon's gasp, and then did it again, pulling his other hand from the broad thigh to rub the oil residue over his own penis. 

As his fingers withdrew, he looked up to meet the deep blue gaze of his Master. Certainty flowed to him before he even needed to ask, and Qui-Gon pulled his knees higher. Obi-Wan nodded, and positioned himself. 

"Wait." 

His penis was just brushing the tender hole, but Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut, shoring up his control until he could look up in question. 

A nervous flick of tongue over lips and the swell of a deep breath in the shining chest - and Obi-Wan drew a little harder on his control. "I may not ask for much in the way of ceremony, Padawan, but I would at least ask a kiss of my first lover." 

Obi-Wan's mouth was over Qui-Gon's almost before the sentence was complete, tongue pressing in as his penis pressed in below. Qui-Gon cried out but the kiss continued, growing more frantic as it soothed away the pain. 

Obi-Wan was dizzy with it, the insane grip on his penis, the body bowed under him, the wild abandon of this kiss. He tried to thrust but there was no grip to be found on the altar and Qui-Gon's body was slick, and there was nothing he could do but push desperately, until he burrowed his hands under Qui-Gon's arms and found a precarious grip on his shoulders, so he could pull him down, deeper, on his shaft. Qui-Gon moaned, stretching his neck to snatch more kisses as his partner arched away. "Again, Obi-Wan, do it again." 

And so Obi-Wan did it again, harder, and again, hoping that the oily friction of their bellies would be enough for the older man. 

Qui-Gon's head was back, hair fanned out, eyes not quite closed. His open mouth widened with a soft cry on every thrust. The muscles in his chest and shoulders flexed as he strained against bonds that would have snapped with a wisp of Force. 

Obi-Wan pushed everything he was feeling and seeing towards his Master, watched the other man's eyes go wide in surprise just before the entire world clenched around his sex. 

Obi-Wan wasn't sure if the High Priest had entered before or after the wild roar, and at this particular moment, he didn't much care. And he wasn't sure if it had been two roars or one, or who, if either, and just now he didn't much care about that, either. He knew he should be worrying about just where this left his relationship with his Master, but he couldn't even bring himself to care about consequences. He couldn't bring himself to lick the oily nipple mere inches from his mouth, so all those far less interesting questions had little chance of brainspace. 

He could have stayed there forever, but he felt a vicious nudge in his side, and rolled back slightly to meet the High Priest's glare. "I suggest, Jedi, that you both gather your things and leave." 

Young boys in pale blue gowns were deftly undoing Qui-Gon's restraints as Qui-Gon began to shift under him, tweaking stretched muscles back into place. Obi-Wan pushed off, getting his first good look at the quietly hostile crowd. Their effect of their anger was tempered by the first yellow rays of morning gilding their faces. The natural peace of dawn reigned, so he reached at leisure for his fallen clothes, watching in approval as another boy brought Qui-Gon's uniform and lightsaber. 

There was no opportunity to reason or wash, and for a moment Obi-Wan allowed himself to mourn the fact that he would never learn what Qui-Gon's hair had been washed in. The silkiness of the mass that hung over those broad shoulders was only temporary, and he hadn't even had a chance to sink his hands into it. 

Qui-Gon settled his robe around him, almost managing to hide his distaste at the clothes sticking to his oily skin. "Come, Padawan." Without a glance in Obi-Wan's direction, he led the way out.

Hours later, the two Jedi were on board their ship, safe, and bound for Coruscant. 

"Master, how could you possibly-" 

"Padawan?" 

"Yes?" 

"Shut up."


End file.
